In Sleep He Sang
by Rachel Red Ridinghood
Summary: Christine Daae, a ballet student living in the opera house dormitories, repetedly has dreams of the Angle of Music. But when these dreams become a reality, Christine's Angel may not be as he seemed.
1. Chapter 1

"_Now, again," he whispered. _

"_But I have been doing these runs for hours." Christine whimpered._

"_But they are not perfect. You must be perfect." _

"_But, Angel, how can I? I am just a child. Perfection is something I cannot accomplish."_

_The Angel gave a laugh. "You must be perfect, child, as the Father is perfect. Am I not here to help you?" he said. "Your father would be disappointed."_

"_Papa…" A pain stabbed her in the heart. "Yes. I shall be perfect," she whispered to herself. "For papa."_

"Christine," spoke Meg, shaking her room mate, "Wake up. You have been talking in your sleep again."

Christine groggily sat up in her bed. Her blanket was missing, but she was too disoriented to notice.

"Wha…what happened?" she asked.

Meg frowned. "Can you not hear me? I said you were talking in your sleep again. Something about an angel…"

"Oh," said Christine. Suddenly, she burst into tears, much to Meg's concerned confusion.

Immediately Meg sat on the bed and put her arms around the distraught Christine. "What happened? Are you alright? Was it a nightmare?" she asked, not sure of what to think. It was not normal for her friend to be so emotional.

"I…I am a failure," she wept.

"You are not a failure," stated Meg, attempting to comfort her friend. "You are the best dancer in our class, you are very pretty, and everyone loves you. How is any of that even close to failure?"

It was true. Christine had become the beloved favorite of the opera house. Since her father died she had come to live in the dormitories and study ballet. Meg's mother, Madame Giry, was her teacher and was continuously speaking proudly of her progress. But she was not concerned of her studies in dance.

Just before he died, her Papa promised to send her an angel to watch over her; the Angel of Music. Christine knew she could not tell Meg of her visits from the Angel. Her friend would not understand how much the visits from this supernatural being tormented her, and yet gave her the joy of being close to her father. The tears on her face would remain unexplained for now.

"Never mind," she said, wiping away the salty wet streaks from her face. Finally noticing the chill in her bare legs, she asked, "Where is my blanket?"

"I thought you would never ask," said Meg, grinning. "The girls in the upper rooms took all of our blankets. Jemima and Kirsten have already left to take their shoes. If we hurry we can join them."

"That would be good fun," said Christine, a faint smile appearing. "But I must write my letter—"

"—to Raul. I thought you might say that," said a disappointed Meg. "Maybe next time? The girls in the upper rooms will probably play another prank on us soon."

"Perhaps," said Christine.

Meg stood up and skipped toward the old door of their room. She was just about to leave when she turned to face Christine, as is remembering something. "You know, you need to have fun more. You cannot be serious your whole life."

"I know," was all Christine said.

Meg looked at her friend, as if about to say something else, but there was only silence. She turned and closed the old, creaky door behind her and began her run toward the upper dormitories. Christine waited until Meg's footsteps faded into the hall before taking out her pen and paper.

**My Dear Roul,**

**I received your last letter, but have not found the time to write back until now. I hope that your cold has left you by now, and that you are playing by the shore again.**

**Life here at the opera house is as it was when I last wrote to you, but I have been having more frightening dreams. They are not nightmares, but they upset me. I dream that the Angel of Music is with me, and teaching me, but I cannot please him. I sing for him, but I must always sing again. I wake in the morning covered in sweat, shaking. I like to think that I am quaking from being so close to the presence of God, but there is a coldness in being near the Angle that I cannot explain. The runs I must sing are complicated, and such that I have never heard sung by those in the company here. But after each lesson I improve.**

**He is strict, but he is an Angel, so I know that what he is having me do it only for the praise of God and the love of my Papa.**

**Collect some shells for me and give my love to Nana. I hope you write to me soon.**

**With love,**

**Little Lotte**


	2. Chapter 2

**My Dearest Christine,**

**I am pleased to say that I am well, and I hope the same of yourself. Nana is no longer with me, but I have sent her a letter with your love. I am now in bording school. St. John's Academy in Stockholm. With all of the work here it has been difficult to find time to write, but I assure you that I miss you terribly. **

**On my last day at the beach house I collected shells for you. They currently under my bed along with other items I intend for you the next time we meet. **

**As for your dreams, I hope that when you recieve this your mind is at rest and you sleep pleasently. If not, then I suggest that you work as hard as you can. Meet the Angel's expectations perhaps he will not be so strict, and eventually leave you in peace. **

**With love,**

**Roul**

Christine read the letter once more before kissing it and opening her dresser drawer. The letter piled inside almost filled the little corner she reserved for these pieces of paper. Each letter she recieved from him was placed in the top drawer after a habitual kiss. Closing the drawer she thought to herself of what to do.

The dreams continued, and were becoming more terrifying. Multiple times Meg awoke her in time to hear her cries echoing off of the stone walls of the dormitories. Madame Giry would come in her dressing gown, hair in cap and candle in hand, to see if she was alright. Christine hated to bother her teacher in the middle of the night, but she had to admit that Madame's presence was comforting.

This evening she would dream again, and once more she would be visited by the Angel of Music. She was not sure if Roul believed that the Angel was visiting her in her dreams, but what he said seemed to make semse. She had not been putting her best efforts into her studies out of fear, but meeting the Angel's expectations may help.

Wrapping herself in her blankets and placing her head on the pillow, Christine prepared for the lesson of the night.

_Christine searched the darkness as she did every night, hoping the Angel of Music would reveal himself to her._

_"Welcome child," said the Angel's voice. _

_"Where shall we begin?" Christine asked._

_"Chromatic scales, beginning in F, moving up a half step when you reach the root."_

_"Yes sir," she stated, and began the exercise._

_"But be mindful of the B flat," the Angel interrupted. "You have a tendency to make it sharp."_

_Christine continued the run, paying close attention to her pitch. _

_"Again," he demanded. "Notes are not steps on a stair case that you must stomp on to reach the next one. Use the notes to form a phrase."_

_"Of course," was all she said. Focusing on making phrases, her voice was like ribbon in the space of her dream._

_"Good," mused the voice. "Well done. Now, we shall begin on the aria I had given to you. You remember how it goes?"_

_"I do."_

_Christine sang her heart into the song, pouring her soul into the music she was creating. _

_"Beautiful," whispered the Angel. "You have made remarkable progress this lesson. Your gift will continue to grow if you contine to listen to me."_

_Christine was almost dizzy with joy. "I will pray for strength, love, and thank the Lord for your assistance." _

_"That you shall."_

The next morning Christine awoke, not from Meg shaking her away from torment, but from the feeling of being rested. For the first time, in a long time, Christine had felt peace.

Quickley slipping out of bed, she ran to the chapel. She was alone, but such was normal. Christine lit her father's prayer candle and knelt on the cold stone floor.

"Father, thank you for the gift of your Angel of Music. I pray for continuous strength and peace, and that some day I shall meet my mentor face to face, so that I may thank him. Amen."


	3. Chapter 3

"Madame Giry? May I speak with you?" asked Christine. Ballet class had not started yet, but Christine needed to talk with her teacher.

"Oui, child. We shall speak after class," smiled Madame. She clapped her hands. "Girls, to the bars. We must stretch and practice our basic steps. Now, one two three, one two three, that's it girls."

Christine plied with grace, but her face did not smile all during the class. Madame noticed this and frowned. "Christine, we must let our faces shine with smiles so that our dance may be illuminated and the audience be able to see the message." Her student was not normally so unhappy. She presumed that whatever Christine wanted to speak about must be important.

She presumed correctly.

After the class was complete, Christine walked over to Madame Giry to curtsey her thanks, and did not follow the others out of the room.

"Now, what is it you wish to speak to me about?" began Madame. Usually a meeting with one of her students like this ended in the student discontinuing her studies and returning back to whatever home they came from. But Christine had no home to return to. What could be on the girl's mind?

Instead of giving a straight answer Christine handed Madame a folded piece of paper. Puzzled, Madame opened it to find that it was a casting call for the opera.

"I would like to audition for the children's chorus in _Hansel and Gretel_," stated Christine. She was rather tall for her age, but was still the right height to be considered a child. "But if I am in the show I cannot continue my ballet lessons. At least not for some time."

So this was the reason for the private meeting. A new dream and opportunity. With any other student Madame would have been smiling, wishing them good luck on the journey, but this was Christine.

"I did not know you sang miss Daae."

Christine looked at her feet. "I have been taking lessons, Madame Giry." She chanced a glance at her teacher. "He suggested that I audition."

Christine. The girl who's dreams often ended in her screaming and shaking in her bed at night. If she were to fail who knew what kind of effect it would have on her confidence and further desires to study ballet. If she succeeded and was cast in the child chorus she was not guaranteed any money or a future in the opera.

"And who is your teacher? One of the members of the company?" Madame inquired.

The girl shook her head.

"So then who is your teacher? If he is not known to be reliable then I will not allow you to leave this class."

Christine looked into the eyes of her teacher. "My teacher is the Angel of Music."

An Angel of Music? In the Opera House? No. It couldn't be.

Madame looked at her prize student. "I would like you to sing for me, then we shall see."

Christine walked over to the studio piano, and played a B flat. Suddenly a sound burst from the child's mouth that none had ever heard before. The song being a minor melody lamenting a lost love. It was like an angel with a voice beyond the knowing of man pleading for good to return to the world.

Madame Giry was speechless. "That was..." what words could describe the sound produced by this child. "...good."

"Thank you," Christine smiled.

"You say that your teacher is the Angel of Music. When do you have your lessons? I have never seen you miss a class."

"That's just it. He teaches me in my sleep." Christine lowered to a whisper. "That's why I have nightmares. He gets very angry when I am not perfect."

"And you are taught well," said Madame. But what could she say about the opera?

"Oh," gasped Christine. "He said I was to give you this. That it would be important in your decision." The child handed her a folded piece of parchment, stamped with red wax. It was in the shape of a skull.

**Madame, I find it best that the child Christine Daae does not audition for the opera _Hansel and Gretel_. I have asked her to request to audition as a lesson in respecting worldly authority, and yet working against it. If you say no, then she shall work even harder in her lessons to prove that she is up to the level of musicality as necessary for performance. You know me and my ways. Saying no will increase her chances of a wonderful career later. **

**Thank you,**

**Erik **

****So it was him. Erik. The boy she retrieved from the gypsies. What he wanted with Christine she did not know, but if saying now would improve Christine's work ethic than that would be best.

**ps- Do not tell Christine. That would ruin everything. **


	4. Chapter 4

**My Dearest Journal, **

**It has been several years since I have begun instructing new prodigy. I have spent countless hours working with her. My little Christine is not so little any more. She is a graceful young woman now and is a member of the dance company in my opera house. Genevieve has taught her well. I have taught her better. It is almost time to unveil h talent to the world. **

**Christine knows not what I do for her but in return I hope that she will someday learn of my hard work and assistance and learn to love me as I love her.**

**Erik**

The mysterious man finally put down his pen. Closing the book he carefully thought of the words he had just placed inside it's worn, tattered leather covers. Did he in fact love the girl? He must have, for he wrote it down without so much as a second thought. After first discovering Chrisine's voice he had no other desire in the world than to teach her. He gave up his time for tinkering and writing only for her. He sighed.

"Erik, you are a dreamer. A genius, but a dreamer."

How could she ever love him? Erik gingerly lifted his hand to his face, carefully exploring his features. After seeing his face in the mirror every single day the abnormalty of its structure was not new to him, but it fascinated him all the same. A bump above his eye, a row of unnecessary creases along his jawbone, and an especially tender spot just in front of his ear. He was a monster. The was never any love for men like him. Unless...

Vaguely remembering a story he once found he scrambled to his bookshelf to find it. After a rather tedious search throughscribbles staff papeopera manuscripts he finally found it. His stolen copy of _Beauty and the Beast_. He had never read th full story, but perhaps it would give him the key to winning the heart of his Beauty.

Something about a peasant girl, father getting lost in a forrest, girl going off to take his place, girl becomes prisoner...here it is! The part where they fall in love.

_Belle looked at the Beast, dying, his head resting on her skirts._

_"Please, do not leave me!__" she cried._

_"I love you Belle," breathes the beast, his large chest heaving for air._

_"I love you too." _

_At that moment the Beast let out his final breath. Belle's eyes filled with tears and she wept for her lost love. But is was not all lost. For the Beast had finally gained love through his actions. The angels blessed him and he was revived. His punishment was ended. Awaking, Belle was startled to find a handsome prince in her arms. Her tears became tears of joy._

_"Truly, you are the one I am meant to love." _

So that was it? Just gain her love with his actions? But she did not entirely love him until he changed into a prince. He was no prince, any one could see that. But if there was any hope he decided to take it.

The clock rang. 11 o'clock. He must be off to teach his pupil. Erik gatherednup the lists of exercises, scales, and a brand new composition, but he was missing something. Looking back at the desk his eyes caught on his missing item. The mask. Even though she could not see him while she slept he always wore it in case she were to suddenly wake and he was not able to slip away in time. That was his worst fear: being seen. But if he were to win her heart he must conquer his fear eventually.

But not tonight. Tonight was too important to risk it. Evey night was too important to risk it. Erik would never let her see beneath the mask. There was just too much at stake. Placing the mask on his face Erik surrendered his hope of ever gaining Christine's love. A Phantom who lives in shadow cannot belong with that child of the light. Unless that light were blown out...

One by one he blew out the candles and retreated to the dark, becoming the Angel who sang in her sleep.


End file.
